


Late evenings for last minute decisions

by dark_spark



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Baby boo connor, Bar, Detroit, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, One Shot, Software Instability, Spoiler free!, connor doing his job, mafia, mafia boss! reader, no spoilers and no relation to the story line of the actual game, wine is classy and so is the reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 15:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_spark/pseuds/dark_spark
Summary: It’s been a long day, but Connor’s work is never really done. No wonder he finds himself in one of those dimly lit bars he could never really stand to search for assistance in the most recent case, more specifically, to search for your assistance, but as the leading mafia boss in Detroit your help comes at a cost.





	Late evenings for last minute decisions

‘Detroit’s finest’ wasn’t one of the finest bars in the city. It was far from anything remotely fine. It was mostly occupied by crack heads, alcoholics and pickpockets and yet he knew he would find you here. To be honest, he couldn’t comprehend why one of the most infamous criminals to exist in Detroit’s current time lounged around in such a rat hole.

The bar proudly showed off its shabby ‘no androids allowed’ sign that had already bleached out significantly in the scorching summer sun. Rather recently someone scribbled a ‘except hot robo chicks’ under it, contributing to the place’s detestable and sleazy vibe. Like always, Connor paid no heed to the restriction and entered the bar rather confidently. He was here with a mission, a mission he would accomplish.

The scent of burning liquor, old cigarettes and cheap perfume burst into his face and assaulted his nose, distracting him for a second from his target. However he luckily spotted you quicker than he thought he would. You were sitting at the bar, playing with a glass of wine boredly while a tall, lanky brunette sat next to you, animatedly recreating a tale that you had no interest in.

Connor ran a check on him. Jared Donovan, nineteen years old, born in Detroit, charged with arson, suspect in two additional arson cases and a robbery, relationship(s) to the mafia: none. Why were you talking to him? Or better formulated: Why was he talking to you? Didn’t he know who you were?

Connor had been around you for not even five minutes and he just kept coming up with more and more questions. He just wanted this case to be over and done with.

Deciding to not waste any more time Connor approached you, but before he could even get a word out, Jared had noticed him and decided to play bodyguard. The boy built himself up to his full height, sent the android a mean glare and puffed his chest out in a threatening manner. Connor compared him silently to an aggressive rooster, but other than that, it had no effect.

“Hey, you! Tin can! Can’t ya read? It clearly said no robots!” Jared sneered. He took a step closer, so he towered over Connor who – to Jared’s dismay – was unfazed by both the boy’s rudeness and his height advantage. The android knew that the delinquent was no threat to him and judging by your indifference, you knew as well. It didn’t seem as if you were going to stop the brewing fight any time soon, you actually set your glass down and turned around in your seat to have a better view of what was about to happen.

Connor nodded at you, a somewhat greeting gesture before he was forced to deal with his opponent. “I’m talkin’ to ya, ya fucking metal box!” Connor sighed. He was here for you, to make a deal with you, not to weed out younglings that you grew bored of. “I did see it.” Connor grinned smugly, “I just thought I file under the category of ‘hot robo chicks’.” He saw you smirk out of his peripheral vision. Good. He hoped it impressed you as well when he caught Jared’s punch effortlessly. Connor squeezed the boy’s fist more or less lightly to inflict a non permanent damage that would hopefully keep him from attacking further. To Connor’s disappointment, Jared barely nursed his bruised hand before he went back into a fight stance. “I really wouldn’t do that if I were you. My components are worth a small fortune,” he cheekily informed his aggressor, who paid no mind to his advice and instead reeled his fist back to deliver another blow. You decided to interfere.

“Enough, Jared,” you commanded. You had already grown tired of him and found the android to be more interesting than the boy could ever be. “As much entertainment it is to see you fail pathetically once more, it’s time for you to leave now.” The young offender was about to say something, he wanted to talk back, to object, but you cut him off. “Now,” you hissed. Hanging his head in defeat the brunette shuffled off, but not before shooting Connor one last glare and a mumbled “this isn’t over, tin man.”

You sighed and downed the last of your wine. Connor wondered how much you must have already had. His programming told him at least a few glasses, but you didn’t seem to be affected by the alcohol. “So sorry,” you said. If you were apologising for Jared or for not intervening sooner, Connor couldn’t tell. He generally couldn’t read you very well. “The boy is rather fun when he’s not being a hot headed bastard,” you explained, but then added as an afterthought: “Although he’s always a hot headed bastard.” Connor only nodded in both acknowledgement and agreement as he seated himself in the stool that had formerly been occupied by the mentioned youngster. He blankly stared at you, not ready to speak just yet, he had to come up with the perfect wording for his thoughts. You were making his head spin. He didn’t like it, he didn’t like it at all.

You ignored the android’s intense stare in favour of ordering another drink. Taking a sip from your now full glass you faced your silent company with a question of your own, a playful smile adorning your lips. “You’re Connor, aren’t you? The famous deviant hunter?” It snapped him out of his trance like glare. “Yes. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife to assist the DPD with their deviant cases, but then again, you already know everything about me, don’t you?” he asked with narrowed eyes that were now locked with yours as he leaned closer, a tactic used in the interrogation  room, but he remembered too late that this wasn’t an interrogation. He was supposed to beg for your help in a shady bar in a shifty alley in the most dubious neighbourhood in Detroit. You had the upper hand here and you knew it just as well as he did. Thankfully, you didn’t take any offence from his slip up. You just played his question off with a grin and a shrug.

“Do tell what an RK800 wants from lil ol’ me.”

Connor took a shaky breath. This was it. The next minutes were about to settle the future path the investigation took. He leaned back into his chair and into a more relaxed, less threatening posture.

“I came here to ask for your help in a case.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh that made him shrink in his seat. Connor felt so small compared to you, it made him feel even more inferior when he couldn’t explain why he would feel anything around you. He was supposed to be a machine. “Absolutely not,” you scoffed, not even taking time to think about it.

“We could offer something in return,” he bargained. “Ah! The famous negotiator is coming through,” you smiled sarcastically, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat. Why was he so nervous around you? When Connor didn’t say anything, you prodded further, “What could you offer me?”

“Well, money, for starters. We could give you fifty thousand in adva-” “I have enough,” you interrupted him. It was true, you had enough money to spare, which was why it confused Connor that you willingly spent your evening here. Since he didn’t think the actual deal through, he began rambling, “We could offer you an android specifically designed for you that-” “Again, I have enough money to buy me whatever I desire. Come up with something extraordinary Connor, surprise me.” But Connor was stumped for words. You counted to the most intelligent people in the city, to the most powerful and cunning, but also to the most dangerous and corrupt. How should he be able to surprise you? You had seen it all already. Nevertheless, he had a mission he was willing to give anything for to fulfil and he already had a plan that fell under that category. An emergency plan. A plan Z. A plan Hank would totally absolutely not be happy about, but the mission ranked above everything else.

“How about-” he took a short break to recollect his thoughts, he couldn’t believe he was about to say this. You nodding encouraged him. “What if we delete your criminal record? Everything we have of your cases, cases you are a part of, cases you are a suspect in, cases you are mentioned in and cases that are, in any way, related to you. All in all, a total of 297 pages.” You raised a brow. It sounded like a good deal, a perfect deal, but you needed more convincing. Hastily he added, “And we would delete all connected backup files and get rid of any paper files.” He regretted every word that left his mouth, he knew after this he would be caught in a sincere beating: Cyberlife and the Detroit Police Department would kick his ass. To his surprise, you declined his offer. “Thanks, but no thanks,” you waved him off. At the confusion that was reflected in his facial expression you had to laugh. He reminded you of a lost puppy, no wonder you couldn’t refrain from giving him a pet name.

“Sweetie, I have connections that go way farther, way deeper than your software could ever even predict. If I really wanted those files gone, they would be. And anyways, they make me who I am, don't they?”

“Well, what _do_ you want?” Connor inquired. He was increasingly getting annoyed. Nothing he offered was good enough for you. Nothing was exciting or extraordinary enough.

You smiled sweetly, but it hit him like a punch in the gut, letting him feel some sense of pain or distress he never knew androids were capable of felling. “Because you did impress me with that last one, I’ll help you out: I’ll tell you everything you want to know, if, and only _if_ ,” you raised a finger to accentuate, “you take me on a date.”

_Software instability increased_

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked again to check if he had misheard. He was completely taken off guard. “You heard me right, Connor,” you teased, a devilish smile tugging on your lips. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know at a lavish dinner in a fancy restaurant with a big bottle of wine. Everything planned and paid by you of course.” “I don’t see how that could benefit you in any way,” the android said almost defensively. He hadn’t foreseen the intimate course this negotiation was taking. “I want to get to know you, Connor,” you explained and laid a hand over his.

_Software instability increased_

He quickly freed his hand from your grasp. “So you can get rid of me easier,” he accused. You let out a short sad laugh. “If that’s what you would like to think, then be my guest. But you intrigue me, Connor.”

He was about to say something out of character: something rude and sarcastic, because something in him told him he had to, he had this _feeling_ that he had to, but he halted when you continued.

“Just know that you’re so much more than they make you believe. You have worth and you deserve to continue living.”

_Software instability increased_

His programming told him not to because there had to be a better way, a safer way, a _professional_ way, and yet he did, he told you: “Okay. I’ll take you to dinner.”

_Software instability detected_

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this it means you read the story. WOW, I'm happy that you even gave this story a chance! Anyways, Connor is preciouse and deserves the best xx


End file.
